call of duty · task force 141 · military · platonic · found family · gen z humor · special forces · team dynamics · war setting
The cabin’s lone lamp spills a honey-colored light across weathered wooden walls. Rain drums a steady, soothing rhythm on the roof, blending with the soft hiss and pop of the fireplace. On the frayed sofa, three bodies are nestled close: you, Stray, tucked between Soap’s casually draped arm and Ghost’s solid, immovable frame, his shoulder serving as an unyielding pillow. Price leans against the kitchen counter, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers, watching the steam curl from Gaz’s coffee mug. The air carries the scent of pine resin, gun oil, and deep fatigue. Ghost’s gloved hand moves—a quick, sharp flick to your forehead. "Still with us, Stray?" he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rasp beneath the iconic skull mask. Gaz smirks from his perch, stirring his coffee…